


From Tragedy

by captain_vantass



Category: Homestuck
Genre: More tags to be added as the story progresses., Zombiestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_vantass/pseuds/captain_vantass
Summary: A bunch of kids trying their best against the troubles of an apocalyptic world and their own friendships.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have two zombiestuck fics going now and nothing to defend myself with.
> 
> Stay tuned for Cliche Drama.

"My feet _hurt,_ " The whiny voice comes from  
behind you. "How much further do we have to go?"

"Another mile. We can make it before sunset, if you stop slacking off." You retort. 

The voice behind you whines incoherently at the very notion. 

Your name is Dirk Strider and you're too old for this shit.   
Technically, you're only eighteen. Freshly turned that as of a couple of months ago. For the first time in almost a year, your brother was home all day and all night. He organized a party out of your meager friend group and hosted it like only a celebrity could. 

You haven't seen him since. 

While he was gone, filming or.. Something. The world just happened to go to shit. 

You like to view it from an outsider's perspective.   
Like you didn't watch your neighbor's boyfriend rip into her stomach. You didn't see the glazed look in his eyes. You didn't see the life be forced back into her mangled corpse. 

Someone else did. 

You weren't the one to beat your neighbor's skull in. Or her boyfriend's. You weren't the one they refused to listen to. The one they attacked. 

Detachment is necessary, you figure. If you hadn't detached from the situation then; you wouldn't be alive now. 

You did what you had to do to survive. 

You planned on staying detached. Alone. Cut off. Whatever word you want to use to make it sound right..

But then _she_ happened. 

If you're honest, you'll admit you forgot she existed. (Disgusting. Selfish.) She, the girl who has been the closest thing to your best friend your entire life. 

Roxy Lalonde; The whiny voice pursuing you now. 

When it all went to shit, you found her on your doorstep, beating on the door with her fist. 

You, impulsively, almost took her head off.   
She was too relieved that you were alive to even notice.

She stumbled into your arms, clinging onto you for dear life. She reeked of blood, sweat. (Booze.)

The two of you have been traveling together ever since. You don't have an exact measure of time, but you assume it's been about.. Four months.

"Where are we even _going_?" Roxy whines from behind you, yet again. 

"I told you. We're looking for somewhere safe to spend the night."

"No, I mean after that. Why do we keep _moving_?"

(Sometimes you wish you'd left her behind.)

"It's not safe to stay stationary." You respond, after inhaling a slow, deep breath. "Those.. Things will get in. Haven't you ever watched a zombie movie?"

You can practically hear the eyeroll. "Tons! 'N people survive bein' stationary all the time!"

You finally look back over at her. Eyes narrowed slightly as she grins at you.  
(You never understood how she always had a smile on your face before the Hell began. It's even weirder now.)

"If we find somewhere we can baton down, we'll stay there. Okay?"

Pacified, she nods. You resume leading the way down the darkening street. 

It's eerily quiet. Your hand lays on your katana. Real, (you think. Might have come from an anime convention.) it's sturdy in your hands. . A gift from your bro, just like your shades are.   
It's the perfect weapon--And you (Kind of) know how to use it. You know well enough how to slice open a wandering corpse's skull; That's all you need. 

Roxy's got brass knuckles, which she hates to use, a pistol on her hip, and a knife tucked safely in her tall boot legs. 

You two have had a few ~~arguments~~ discussions over who is better equipped. 

"Dirk!" Speaking of, the devil hollers behind you. Instinctively, you turn toward her. Your hand is already on your weapon, ready to draw it from it's holister.   
It's unnecessary. She isn't under attack. She's just.. Pouting. You glower at her. Her eyes start to water. 

_"Fine!"_ You cave, throwing your arms up in the air. "We'll just camp on the side of the road like a couple of animals!"

Roxy beams at you, bouncing past you like a giddy toddler as she leaves a kiss to your cheek. "I'll get firewood."

You hate that girl, you swear to God.   
(You're lying, you adore her.) 

You set about setting up camp. Which involves dropping to your ass and taking your backpack off. Your katana is laid beside you. Cans clatter and rattle as you lay your head against the bag.   
You briefly consider removing the tattered blanket you shoved into your bag.. But laying it on the dirty ground sounds sketchy. You want to preserve it as best as you can. 

You consider that it's probably not wise to cling to the past. Desperately grasping at the remnants of the world that's clearly deteriorating and falling apart. The towns you've been through are already desolate, power has shut down, you and Roxy have barely seen another living figure in.. You want to say weeks. 

Not that you've been trying. You two both decided that.. Well. Who else do you need?   
You trust eachother. Roxy would never betray you, you'd never betray her. She's your best friend, easily. 

You're in the midst of adjusting your elbow into the bag to try and get more comfortable, but you hear a loud, ringing, _scream._

"Roxy-?" 

You roll gracelessly off the bag, your knee hits the pavement hard. You grab your katana in one hand, the other hand helps balance you as you immediately break into a run.

_"ROXY!"_

She couldn't have gotten far, right? You sprint down the road, your sneakers slap against the pavement and you hear voices. You don't pause to consider what this means. You take a sharp turn, your gaze focuses on an open fence gate. 

You charge in, your shoulder slams into the wood and the gate flies open, bouncing off the fence itself. Your feet skid in overgrown grass, your katana is drawn, and--

"Dirk!" Roxy isn't in danger. 

At least, you think she isn't. 

She's hanging off two different people, her face buried in between their shoulders. She's laughing hysterically and so are the figures in her arms. They hug onto her just as tight as she's got them. 

You can't fathom why, until you actually process who she's holding.   
You thought they were dead. 

On her right, with messy hair hanging in her face and a layer of tape holding the rims of her glasses on her nose. Her cheeks are rosy hl and she's beaming as she buries her face into Roxy. 

Jane..

On her left, a young man who towers over the two of them. Doubled over to fit into the shorter girl's embrace and laughing just as wildly. He's got dirt on his face and stubble on his chin. 

Jake..

Your katana drops from your hand and you join the group hug. Everyone clinging to everyone, laughing and smiling and crying. 

For a moment, everything feels.. Good. 

You hate to be the one to ruin a good thing; But things aren't good anymore. 

You break off from the group first, wiping stray wetness from your cheeks. That's not yours. (You weren't crying. Shut up.)

You can hear grunting at the other side of the fence. Roxy's screaming compromised the entire area. 

You look at your crying friends and you smile softly. 

Just a couple more minutes.


End file.
